


Pine

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Carl’s new caretaker has a crush.
Relationships: Carl Manfred's New Caretaker Android/Leo Manfred
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	Pine

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He misses the days of dining in the living room, but then, Carl misses a lot of things long gone—running through the park, taking strangers home, painting by the waterfront whenever anything caught his eye. He misses the occasional letter from his abroad son, still too young to get into trouble or have anything much to say. He misses sitting in a chair on Elijah’s lawn and discussing the philosophy behind artificial life. He misses _Markus_ : the pseudo-son who he couldn’t be prouder of. But Markus has more important things to do now. And Carl had his time to be healthy and happy. He reminds himself he’s still relatively comfortable. Sure, he’s propped up in bed, the same bed he’s been strapped to for weeks, with machines all around him and tubes stuck in awkward places, but at least he’s still _alive_. At least everyone knows it. Leo stops by more often than he used to. Markus stops by when he can. The new caretaker is always there, always doting on him, even though there’s been a new spark in the AP700’s eyes that Carl recognizes. 

Carl’s not a monster. He’s told the AP700 that he can go at any time, join Markus’ movement or do anything else he likes. But the AP700 says his place is with Carl. He doesn’t seem to mind wasting precious hours of his immortal life seeing to an old man’s never-ending needs. He brings dinner up at precisely five o’clock, holding it all on a fancy silver tray. The LED mounted in his forehead is a calm electric blue, his sharp features relaxed in a peaceful expression. He greets, “Good evening, Carl.”

And Carl would like to answer with the same, except the AP700 hasn’t picked out a name yet, and Carl certainly isn’t going to do it. Elijah didn’t get to name this one. Maybe Markus will, the next time he comes over. The AP700 would probably like that. The AP700 arranges the tray across Carl’s lap and straightens, standing stiff and motionless, but somehow not intimidating, not uncomfortable—the AP700 is charming and disarming. Even Leo seems to get along better with Carl’s new caretaker than he ever did with Markus. For the first few minutes of dinner, Carl pokes at his salad, and the AP700 watches without blinking. 

They aren’t often so silent anymore, not on Carl’s good days. But the conversation doesn’t come like it usually does. Carl has nothing new to report, never does, so relies on the AP700 to bring him news of the outside world and all the people he used to care about. Then he looks, really _looks_ at the AP700’s handsome face, and he asks, “What is it?”

The AP700 tilts his head, and repeats, “It?”

“You want to talk about something.”

The AP700 purses his lips. Maybe he’s surprised to have _emotions_ suddenly giving him away, because emotions are still new him—Carl can’t imagine what it’s like to have all the knowledge and wisdom of a full adult, a highly advanced brain, yet the experience of a newborn child. The AP700 seems to be handling it well. His journey’s been a gentle one, one Carl’s felt privileged to witness. 

The AP700 opens his mouth and actually _hesitates_ before saying, “I would like to speak to you about Leo.”

Carl’s grip tightens around his fork. He knew this day would come. He always hated seeing his sons fight, even thought it wasn’t ever really a _fight_ , because Markus never did anything back until the second that he snapped. He hasn’t heard the AP700 and Leo fighting at all, but then, for all he knows, they’re having punching matches in the lobby every time Leo shows up. Leo’s been doing so _well_ lately—healed, _sober_ , sheepish and humbled. Carl knows he’s _trying_. But Carl also knows that old habits die hard, and Leo’s always been troubled.

He doesn’t need to know what’s happened. He already knows it was Leo’s fault. He sighs, “I’m sorry. I’ll have a talk with him. If he’s been treating you badly—”

“No,” the AP700 cuts in, to Carl’s surprise. “He’s been delightful.”

Carl blinks. He stares blankly up at the AP700, unsure what’s going on. As much as he loves his son, ‘delightful’ was never a word he would ascribe to Leo. The AP700 smiles softly, like he knew Carl wouldn’t easily accept that. 

“We’ve been talking lately, when he comes over while you’re sleeping and on the nights when he stays over. It’s been... interesting... to know someone with such a vast range of emotions. I find him...” The AP700 seems to look for a word, glancing off into the distance, something no android should ever do. He finally settles on, “Mesmerizing.” And then, even stranger, he adds, “And cute.”

“Cute?” Carl half thinks he’s fallen back asleep and is just floating in another boringly realistic dream.

“Yes. He is attractive by human standards, isn’t he? I certainly find him appealing to look at. Like one of your paintings.”

Carl can feel his brows lifting. He doesn’t even know where to start. A part of him, beyond shocked, is _pleased_ , because this pure, innocent being has seen something _good_ in a man he once thought beyond hope. Of course Carl _wants_ Leo to be good, to be clean and content. But he also has an obligation to this brand-new creature, and he feels compelled to say, “Maybe... but he’s also had a difficult life. He’s relapsed before, and even in between, he can be stubborn, and entitled, and...” Carl trails off. 

The AP700 doesn’t look at all put off by all of Leo’s very human flaws. “I’m aware Leo requires care. But providing care is my primary function, one I haven’t wanted to lose in my evolution.”

If Markus’ changes don’t take, if the androids don’t continue to gain and _keep_ their rights, the AP700 will belong to Leo when Carl dies. Maybe it’s a good thing that the AP700 doesn’t seem bothered by that aspect, but the last thing Carl wanted is for Leo to learn android acceptance by having his own slave. 

Maybe the AP700 can see that concern, because he adds, “Don’t worry, Carl. I can handle him.”

Evidently, he can. And it’s blown Carl’s mind. 

The AP700 admits, “I... actually, I was hoping to get your blessing regarding him. I do think we’ve become something akin to friends, but I would to explore _more_ with him, if he’s interested... and I’d like to know that’s alright with you.”

It is and it isn’t. Carl tries to picture Leo having one of his fits, broken down on the couch, messy and sweat-slicked and crying uncontrollably, face buried in the AP700’s lap while the AP700 strokes his hair and offers endless praise and support—the kind of things Carl was never any good at giving. And he knows it’ll never be the other way around; Leo will never have to prop the AP700 up. Unless he stands with him in their marches. Maybe he’d go with the AP700 to file legal papers for _personhood_. Maybe it’s possible for Leo to grow enough as a human being to _be there_ for someone else’s struggles. 

Carl still says, “I don’t think he’d be good for you.”

And the AP700 smoothly counters, “I like him.” So blunt and simple. Just like that. 

_Like_ can be a beautiful thing. As bitter as Carl’s become in his old age, he’s not cynical enough to spit in the face of young love. He does _want_ them both to be happy. 

To be loved. Long after he’s gone. When he does past, at least they’ll have each other, in one capacity or another, and hopefully Markus will come back for his funeral and give Leo one last hug. 

Against his better judgment, Carl says, “You have my blessing.”

The AP700 says, “Thank you, Carl.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before his temple flashes yellow. Processing. His eyes go blank for half a second, and he announces, “Leo’s here.”

Carl didn’t even know he was coming. “Did you invite him over?”

“Earlier, yes. I wanted him to see the sketches you did yesterday. I confess I’m hoping he’ll stay for dinner after, and then I can tell him how I feel.”

Carl doesn’t know what to say. So he settles on, “Good luck,” and means it.


End file.
